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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=384786" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Will</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=384786" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, <br>Can circumvent or hinder or control <br>The firm resolve of a determined soul. <br>Gifts count for nothing; will alone is great; <br>All things give way before it, soon or late. <br>What obstacle can stay the mighty force <br>Of the sea-seeking river in its course, <br>Or cause the ascending orb of day to wait? <br>Each well-born soul must win what it deserves. <br>Let the fool prate of luck. The fortunate <br>Is he whose earnest purpose never swerves, <br>Whose slightest action or inaction serves <br>The one great aim. Why, even Death stands still, <br>And waits an hour sometimes for such a will.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Ella+Wheeler+Wilcox">Ella Wheeler Wilcox</a></strong></div>

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